


Online

by SolarMorrigan



Series: Those 100 [22]
Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: First Meeting, M/M, Modern AU, past Egon Spengler/Janine Melnitz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Egon does not take the "do not meet up with strangers from the internet" rule under strict advisement</p>
            </blockquote>





	Online

**Author's Note:**

> I seriously couldn't think of anything for this one, so it's a description-heavy modern AU! Yaaay

This was, as a general rule, not something Egon usually did. He grasped a recycled cardboard cup in one hand and tapped the screen of his phone with the other; 10 minutes past the hour and no new messages. It frustrated him that he was being made so nervous by what should have been an inconsequential meeting. An inconsequential meeting that shouldn’t even be happening, really. Egon had many online contacts; he was a member of numerous respected discussion boards and kept in touch with many colleagues and professional friends throughout the world via email.

But the Tobin’s Guide Online discussion board was Egon’s guilty pleasure. He didn’t make his fascination with the world of the paranormal public knowledge. In fact, if he managed to be as discreet as he thought he was, there were really only two people in his life who knew about this private interest at all. Janine had, of course, had to find out eventually. One did tend to share interests with romantic partners at some point or another. It hadn’t worked out with Janine, but after some initial prickliness, their breakup led to a much firmer friendship. She came over now and then to marathon ghost-hunting shows just to listen to Egon deride their idea of “science.”

The other person was, admittedly, someone Egon had met through the Tobin’s board. User “Ecto_1” had been one of the first people to join the website when it had gone up and had been a diehard member since. When Egon signed up for the website, he found an intellectual equal in Ecto_1, and someone who was incredibly interested in Egon’s ideas for actually making the paranormal tangible. They had traded email addresses and, after Ecto_1 (Ray Stantz, Egon learned) had mentioned a detail about his morning commute, found they both lived in New York City. Ray’s unfettered enthusiasm had eventually coaxed Egon into a meeting in person—in fact at the same coffee shop where the blond now sat—and had they talked their way well into the night.

Egon had found a great friend in Ray, someone who was warm and kind and as invested in Egon as a person as he was in Egon as a scientist- something Egon had never really managed to reach with his colleagues, or even his classmates in college. The physicist had never met someone as genuinely enthusiastic and pleased by just about everything as Ray was, and didn’t regret meeting up with him for a moment.

That was, perhaps what had been stuck in the back of his mind when he’d agreed to meet “psychandpsychics” in person.

Opposed to Ray’s genuine belief in the paranormal, psychandpsychics was the epitome of a skeptic.  What he was doing on the Tobin’s board, Egon still hadn’t sussed out. He had a habit of leaving borderline inflammatory replies to other member’s posts and had made the mistake of leaving such a message on one of Egon’s. Egon had proceeded to call him out for what he assumed he was- a troll. What he had gotten in return was not the incoherent taunts and defensiveness he’d expected, but an actual, intelligent response.

Intrigued, Egon had continued the back-and-forth conversation in the comment section, trading as many barbs as actual ideas, until they had hit the thread’s post limit. That was when one Peter Venkman had sent Egon a personal message requesting his email so they could talk properly. Egon learned that Peter held a doctorate in psychology and a closeted, if skeptical, interest in the world of the supernatural. He regularly left Egon equal parts amused and irritated as he made good arguments to the blond’s theories. Egon tended only to consider the hard science of hunting the paranormal, while Peter took into account the human element. He also flirted like breathing. It was that fact, Egon supposed, that had him so nervous about their meeting.

The meeting, itself, had been Peter’s idea, and Egon had agreed readily enough to a coffee date with the man. It hadn’t been until the day the meeting was to take place that Egon considered Peter might have meant it to be an actual… _date_. Egon had never taken his friend’s flirting very seriously, replying to it with his customary dry sarcasm, but Peter’s tone had changed somewhat since they set a time and place for a meeting. Last night’s email had ended with, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” which was an oddly _sincere_ comment for the psychologist.

That left Egon sipping nervously at a vanilla latte now 15 minutes past when they had agreed to meet and wondering if he was being shouldered off by his friend or stood up by his date. He was about to text Peter—and good God, why hadn’t Egon realized sooner that the man was this deep under his skin; they’d traded _phone numbers_ and had never even met in person—when the bell above the door chimed and a man sporting a sweatshirt and tousled brown hair sauntered in.

It took Egon only a moment to reconcile this version of Peter with the pictures of Dr. Venkmen he’d seen on the website for the clinic where he worked. Gone was the sharp suit and carefully tamed hair, but the face was still the same. The man scanned the small café and spotted Egon quickly, his face lighting up with an easy grin.

Egon felt pinned in place, suddenly unsure if he should get up and shake Peter’s hand or stay in his seat or if there was some third option he was unaware of because he rarely found himself interacting with people outside of a professional or academic setting and this was absolutely irrational, he had only been this nervous when Janine had first glanced at him and looked positively predatory and now it was too late because Peter was at the table and sliding into the chair across from Egon. Peter leaned forward on the table, still smiling, and put a hand out towards Egon. “Dr. Spengler, I presume?”

A smile tugged at Egon’s mouth as he took Peter’s hand and shook it with almost exaggerated cordiality. “Yes.” His simple answer fell in line with the traditional exchange.

“Great,” Peter grinned, “It’s about time, too. Boy have I got some bones to pick with you.”

Egon quirked an eyebrow, barely noting they had yet to pull back from their handshake but still registering the warmth that sank into his palm. “Is that so?”

“Oh, yeah. Get comfortable, Spengs, I get the feeling we’re going to be sitting here a while.” Peter said, his smirk falling into something a little softer, perhaps friendlier.

“Certainly. There’s nothing I can imagine taking precedence over drinking coffee and arguing with you all day.” Egon replied dryly.

“Well, as long as we’re in agreement.” Peter nodded. He finally withdrew his hand from Egon’s, but his eyes lingered and the warm feeling remained long into the evening.

(And Egon hardly even minded Peter’s laughter when they decided it was most definitely a date.)


End file.
